


9 to 5

by PhoenixTalon



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Rumbelle - Fandom, Swanfire - Fandom
Genre: AU, Comedy, F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-09 01:34:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3231275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixTalon/pseuds/PhoenixTalon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Belle French starts her job at Gold Consolidated, she grateful to make allies with Emma Swan and Aurora Costa, particularly against the advances of her scummy boss. One evening, the girls have had enough of Killian Jones, and it turns out, payback's the bitch. 9 To 5 AU, Rumbelle, Swanfire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Belle French arrived downtown forty-five minutes early for her first day at work. She was rather grateful for this, as it took her a good half hour to find a parking spot, locate her building, and muster the nerve to walk through the entryway.

Belle always felt that the right outfit could inspire the best sort of confidence in even the direst of circumstances. She wore a cream colored blouse with a flowered pin she'd bought at a thrift store, along with a high-waisted black silk skirt that flared at the hem. She was wearing her very favorite heels—black Oxford heels with white insoles that made her feel professional and classy—and for once, her curly dark hair was cooperating, blowing nicely in the wind and allowing a few curls to frame her face. She was ready as she'd ever be.

Gold Consolidated was located in the tallest skyscraper in the city and was about as intimidating as it looked. She meekly entered the huge marble lobby, trying not to gape at the vaulted ceilings, the businessmen and women hurrying to and fro, often bumping into her. Belle checked her planner for the floor she was supposed to go to, and scurried towards the elevator doors, pressing the UP button.

The opened and a flood of people swarmed around her, entering and exiting. She felt constricted in such tight quarters—she should've taken the stairs, should've known that an elevator would be too hard for her. But she only had ten minutes until she was supposed to arrive, and she was terrified of being late. She focused her breathing, staring at her shoes, not looking at the dizzying view the glass elevator provided.

The elevator doors opened and the flood of people exited, leaving Belle alone with one other man.

He wasn't a particularly tall man, but something about the confident way he leaned on his cane, exhibited a powerful sort of presence. There was an almost leonine grace in his movements and his features were strong and distinct. His hair was streaked with gray, a strangely attractive feature—it rather made him look distinguished. He was almost reminiscent of Cary Grant, in both elegance and class. He had atmosphere, this man, and Belle was torn between intimidation and fascination.

His hand reached for the elevator buttons and he glanced at her. "What floor?" He asked and Belle noted his accent was vaguely Scottish—or perhaps Irish or Welsh, she was always terrible at placing accents.

"38," Belle replied nervously. "It's uh…my first day."

"Really," He eyed her interestedly and Belle was struck by the intensity in his eyes.

"Yes," She answered, fidgeting with the strap of her purse. "It's been…a while since I've worked. I'm a little nervous."

His fingers twitched on his cane. "How long?"

Belle blushed. "Erm…well…it's technically my first full-time job. I got engaged right after college and my fiancé—my former fiancé didn't want me to work. He was a little old-fashioned." Old-fashioned enough to run away with his secretary the week before their wedding, Belle added privately.

The man snorted at her comment about her fiancé; apparently he didn't have a high opinion of men who thought their wives shouldn't work.

"And where will you be working?" He asked curiously, a twinkle of humor in his eyes.

"I'm working for Gold Consolidated—of course I am, I'm in the building," Belle flushed. "I'm going to be in the Accounting Department. One of the administrative assistants, apparently there's a team of them."

"Killian Jones' floor," The man replied and she noted the words were a little stiff coming out of his mouth. "Mm. Well, I'll wish you luck then, dearie."

"Thank you…" The doors opened on floor 38 and Belle blinked as she stepped out. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name—I'm Belle French."

He smiled at her. "Tavish Gold," He replied, the elevators closing on his wide smirk.

It took a few seconds for Belle to realize she'd been conversing with the sole owner and Chairman of the Board of Gold Consolidated. Feeling dizzy, she took a stumbling step forward, glancing about.

The floor was filled with cubicles, one right after another, and each one looked exactly the same. Belle was surprised to notice that none had any pictures, plants, little desk ornaments—all contained the same type of PC computer, phone, stapler, and post-its.

The residents of each cubicle stared blankly at their monitors, typing away, answering phones, all in the same monotone voice that made Belle want to scream. She swallowed hard, trying to get used to her surroundings, and wondered how on earth she would be able to work in such a drab place.

"Belle French?"

She turned to find a young woman around her age—perhaps a few years older—staring at her impatiently. The woman was very beautiful, with long blonde, curly hair that brought fairy tale princesses to mind. She had stormy blue gray eyes and a firm, no-nonsense expression on her face.

"Yes," Belle said gratefully. "Are you—"

"Emma Swan," She put in bluntly. "Follow me. I hope you can learn quick. We go through admins like tissues around here."

Emma had long strides and Belle raced to keep up. They circled the entire room coming upon a drab little cubicle near a window with the blinds shut all the way.

"Here's your desk," Emma dumped a large sheaf of papers in front of the computer. "This file contains your computer login, password, email login and password, HR stuff. Don't surf the internet, Jones is a shark about that crap, he fired the last chick for checking her Facebook page." Belle set her purse down, swallowing hard, trying to keep from being overwhelmed.

"What—what will I be doing?" She asked, proud of keeping her voice from shaking.

"I call the admins jack of all trades," Emma gave her a warm smile that was immensely comforting. "Like the Springsteen song. We call our contractors, mail invoices, mail checks, file different accounts, proof Jones' emails so he doesn't sound like a moron to the professional world, copy crap, scan crap, whatever Jones—or me, I manage the rest of the admins—needs taken care of. Got it?"

Belle nodded. She was a fast typist and a keen organizer and thanked her lucky stars she'd been blessed with these abilities. "And who is—Jones?"

Emma made a face. "C'mon. Better introduce you to the boss."

"Rory," Emma said in a rather flat voice. "Can you let Jones know the new hire is here? He wanted to see her before she gets started."

Aurora Costa smiled at them both sweetly. She was very pretty, Belle thought immediately, with honey brown hair and sparkling blue eyes that occasionally veered into shades of green. She wore a pretty lilac dress and seemed devoid of guile or cunning, and Belle wondered at Emma's coldness.

"Sure, Emma," Rory said cheerfully picking up the phone and punching a few numbers.

"Rory's Killian Jones' personal assistant," Emma explained. She looked like she wanted to say a little bit more but before she could, Rory hung up the phone.

"He says to go right in," Rory chirped and Emma nodded curtly at her. Belle gave her a smile.

"Oh—and Belle?" Belle turned towards Rory's voice. "I just wanted to let you know…I know what it's like to be the new girl and how intimidating all this can be. If you need anything at all, don't be afraid to let me know, okay?" Rory's eyes were earnest and friendly.

"Thank you," Belle said gratefully. "I'll take you up on that." She gave Rory one last smile before following Emma into Killian Jones' office.

Belle, who had imagined Killian Jones as someone old and colorless, was surprised to find him young and very attractive. He had an almost rakish glint in his eye—a glint that Belle recognized and automatically distrusted. He had Clark Gable's coloring and carried himself as though he had Clark's charm as well—when in reality, it fell quite a bit short.

"Belle French," He stood from his desk and reached over, grasping her hand. "It's wonderful to meet you. Welcome to Gold Consolidated."

"Thank you," Belle said shyly. "And thank you for allowing me this opportunity."

"Well, it's always wonderful to have another pretty face join my girls," He smiled smarmily and Belle's stomach lurched a bit at being deemed 'one of his girls'.

"It's important for us to preserve the culture here, Belle," Killian lifted his feat upon his desk almost lazily. "A culture of professionalism, efficiency, and teamwork. Mr. Gold values loyalty around here, never breaking a deal, never breaking a contract, and although I don't agree with the old crocodile on everything, he's absolutely spot on about that."

Belle remembered her brief conversation with Mr. Gold in the elevator and wondered if she ought to bring it up. She decided against it.

"My office is near my girls so if they need anything, I'm just a door away," Killian continued, offering her another uncomfortable smile. "You be sure to take advantage of that, all right, Belle?" He winked at her and Belle raised and lowered one shoulder.

"All right, then feel free to dive right in!" Killian yawned a little bit. "Emma love, the morning's catching up with me, would you be a dear and get me a coffee?"

Something twitched in Emma's expression. If looks could kill, Killian Jones would be on the ground right now.

"Mr. Jones," Emma stated with acid sweetness. "I've worked her for nearly a decade, I've trained most everyone in this department including you, I'm in charge of hiring the admins—I think I've bypassed coffee duty."

"Now, Emma," Killian said scolding. "Think of the example you're setting for Miss French. I just got done telling her how important loyalty and teamwork are to this company and here you're parroting a 'one for all' mentality. I'm disappointed in you, love."

Emma looked like she was resisting the urge to deck her boss but forced a pained smile. She nodded curtly and ushered Belle out of the office.

"Oh, and let Rory know I need her to come in here, I want her to draft an email for me," Killian called as Emma shut the door with a decisive snap.

"Rory, Jones wants you," She snapped at the assistant. Rory nodded, picking up her notebook and pen and entered the office, closing the door behind her.

"Well, that was the boss," Emma exhaled slowly. "And his darling assistant. Jones has made no secret that she's doing a lot more for him than just writing letters, never mind they're both married…"

Belle's eyes widened and Emma sighed, running her fingers through her hair.

"Don't mind me," She patted Belle's shoulder awkwardly. "He makes me crabby. I gotta play nice till Friday, that's when they announce the promotion. I've been gunning for a managerial position for years and no one knows this department better than me…"

"Well, I wouldn't say no one," A wry voice remarked and Emma groaned. A young man pushing a mail cart grinned at both of them. His eyes looked vaguely familiar and Belle took in his dark, floppy hair and bemused expression.

"Back off, Neal," Emma snapped. "You could have any position you wanted, all you have to do is ask Daddy."

He made a face. "Fortunately, my pride is way more important than annoying you," He extended his hand to Belle. "Nice to meet you. I'm Neal Gold, executive managing vice president of the mailroom."

Belle laughed, squeezing his hand. He was charming, this one. "Did Emma mean…your father is…"

"Tavish Gold," Neal nodded in affirmation. "Yep, that's him. My lack of motivation frustrates him, but hey, I'm happy to do what I'm good at."

"Distributing mail," Emma commented dryly. "You're good at a lot more than that, moron."

"Aw, honey, I'm touched," Neal pressed a hand to his heart and Belle couldn't help but giggle at the two of them. She wondered if they were involved.

"I met him," Belle cleared her throat and both parties looked at her. "In the elevator on the way up here. He was very…friendly."

Neal cocked his head and Emma blinked. "Not a word I'd use to describe him," Emma remarked. "How about cold? Heartless? Distant? Frigid? Bastard?"

Neal nodded in agreement but Belle still had her doubts. But she couldn't afford to make enemies at the workplace so she simply raised and lowered one shoulder neutrally.

"Hi Belle," Rory approached her desk with a friendly smile. "How's your first day going? Getting all settled?"

Belle nodded, giving her a warm smile. Emma had been rather judgmental and harsh towards the young woman and Belle had further noticed that the rest of the office women treated Rory Costa like a pariah, shooting her glares and whispering behind her back. But Belle didn't like preconceived notions. She preferred casting her own judgments, after getting to know the party in question.

"Would you like to go to lunch with me?" Rory asked hopefully. "I know a really great sandwich place just around the corner."

"Sure," Belle said amiably, grabbing her purse.

The sandwich shop turned out to be a cozy little café called Dragon's that endeared itself to Belle almost immediately. It was almost grubby, certainly not as popular as the Panera or Starbucks right next door, but its originality drew its own fair share of customers as well.

"They have amazing soup here," Rory said eagerly. "And all different types of bread." She ordered a vegetarian sandwich on rye and merrily said she'd grab them a table by the window. She disappeared towards the back and Belle obediently stepped forward in line.

"I'd like a grilled chicken sandwich on wheat with an iced tea please," Belle requested. The cooks were fast, hurriedly handing over her tray and drink in record time. Feeling hungry, she turned around and tripped over her feet, spilling all of her iced tea on the person behind her.

"Oh, I'm so—" She froze. She had just capsized her iced tea on Tavish Gold, the owner of Gold Consolidated.

For a horror-filled moment, Belle was terrified she would be fired on the spot. But to her surprise, Gold started laughing. Laughing.

"I'm so, so sorry!" Sanity returned to Belle and she immediately snatched napkins off the counter, asking one of the workers for a dish towel. "I didn't mean to, please forgive me—"

"It's all right," He chuckled. "My son is always threatening to destroy my suits, he'll be pleased you beat him to the punch…."

Color stained her cheeks. "Please—maybe if we dry clean it, it'll—"

"It really is no matter," Gold assured her. "And what of you? Are you enjoying your first day?"

Belle blinked, recalling Emma and Neal's choice words in describing Tavish Gold. Distant? Cold? He seemed positively warm towards her…

"It's…a little overwhelming," She admitted. "But Emma Swan is nice and helpful. I'm having lunch with Aurora Costa, she's a sweetheart. Even if the job is hard, if the people are sweet, I think I can handle anything."

"A positive mentality," Gold noted. "And what of…your boss? Killian Jones?"

Belle hesitated. The truth of the matter was that Killian Jones bothered her, though she couldn't hazard why. Something about the way he carried himself, perhaps his slightly bloated ego garnered automatic dislike. Furthermore…Belle was certain she did not ever want to be in a room alone with him.

But Belle was not one to cast aspersions, certainly after only one impression. "He seemed very affable," She decided was the safest answer.

"Mm," Gold's expression was carefully guarded. "Well. Let me know if you need anything." He stepped up towards the counter, intent on placing his order.

Automatically, Belle responded, "Yes, you too!" She immediately flushed at how foolish she sounded.

"Oh certainly, I'm sure I have a few other shirts that need a good dousing," Gold remarked drolly, but not maliciously. Belle couldn't help but giggle and flashed him a smile before rejoining Aurora.


	2. Gold Consolidated

By the end of Belle’s first week, it quickly became apparent that there was an assortment of peculiar relationship entanglements throughout Gold Consolidated.  Tavish Gold’s only son and supposed heir to the company (though currently, he refused it) was Neal Gold—who apparently was the father of Emma Swan’s  _son_.

Belle had suspected that Neal and Emma had had some sort of romantic connection or history, but the fact that they both had a child was mind-boggling.  According to Aurora Costa, they were no longer together, due to some kind of fight between their families and an assortment of misunderstandings.  Nevertheless, they  _acted_  like a couple, though Emma reportedly refused to live with him or even date him officially.  She kept her walls up, Rory said knowingly. 

In any case, Belle remained curious about Neal’s father, whom everyone agreed was a dragon in the workplace.  She had mentioned her few interactions with Tavish Gold to Rory, who’d simply shrugged, and stated that she’d never met the man and had no basis to judge.  Rory did point out that he was brutally efficient in his work, had little patience for time-wasters, and demanded everyone perform their roles to the best of their ability.  Aside from the lack of emotion, Belle didn’t necessarily find these  _bad_  qualities.

 She was still a little perplexed as to why he was so kind to her. 

Which is why she couldn’t resist listening to Neal and Emma’s conversation as she prepared a cup of tea for herself in the office kitchenette.  They had apparently not noticed her, too deeply engrossed in their discussion.  Belle was not an eavesdropper by any stretch of the imagination, but when she heard Emma mention Gold, she couldn’t seem to stop herself from overhearing. 

“You know, I told him,” Neal remarked, folding his arms over his chest. “I told him over and over she was bad news. That she wasn’t what he thought. But he didn’t listen, and now look where we are.” 

“Oh come on,” Emma scoffed, sprinkling cinnamon into her hot chocolate. “How could you have possibly known?” 

“Because the one and only thing my Dad and I have in common, aside from our beautiful eyes,” Neal pronounced with a wink. “Is that we both have terrible taste in women. We get conned right out of our hearts.”

“Gee, thanks,” Emma said dryly. 

“I didn’t mean  _you_ , sunshine,” Neal laughed, taking a bite out of an apple. “But come on. Remember Tamara?”  Belle watched out of the corner of her eyes as a very sour expression emerged on Emma’s face. 

“Do  _not_  remind me,” Emma said acidly, slamming the cinnamon back into the cupboards. 

“A long line of bad decisions before her and you,” Neal continued. “And I’m a chip off the old block where Dad’s concerned. Remember my mom?” The two shared an expression of equal disgust and Belle became very interested in the nutritional qualities of the sweet and low as she prepared her tea. 

“You see?” Neal said triumphantly. “Cora is just another classic example. Dad’s really gotta be more careful about this kind of thing.” 

“Seriously, Neal,” Emma said exasperatedly. “You expect me to believe that Tavish Gold even  _has_  a heart, and that Cora broke it by showing her true colors? Get real. The man’s a frost giant, you can’t expect me to think that he even cared. You’ve said yourself he’s hardly said anything about it.”

“And that’s how you know,” Neal sighed, looking tired. “Look hon, I’ve got a million issues with the man. In fact, I’ve got the whole subscription. But you gotta believe me on this one—the man is full of love. I hate that he’s hurt about it, but I’m glad he’s not wasting his time with her. Just wish he’d find someone who’s good for him, has a good heart. Brings out the best in him, that kinda stuff.” 

“You’re a better man than I, Gunga Din,” Emma said skeptically. “I haven’t forgiven him…for a lot of things.”

Belle’s tea was now perfectly prepared and getting colder by the minute, so she reluctantly took her Jane Austen mug and returned to her desk.  Her thoughts were swimming as she sipped her tea.  She selfishly wished she were closer to Emma, who seemed to have all this fascinating intel about the Gold family—which made sense, seeing as she was technically a part of it. Belle couldn’t quite put her finger on why she was so interested in Gold’s tendency to lose his heart to undeserving women, but the image of his soft brown eyes and gentle smile suddenly filled her thoughts—

She blinked, stiffening.  Oh no.  No, no, no.  Off-limits.  She was in absolutely no position to nurse a silly office crush, particularly on the head of the company who was good deal older than her, the father of one of her coworkers, as well as being her boss.  Absolutely not.  She had just broken up with Gene for heaven’s sake, this was terrible timing. 

Enough of this, Belle told herself sternly.  You aren’t here to fall in love, you’re here to work.  She needed this job desperately, if only to create a foundation of work experience.  There was absolutely no room for anything else in her life. 

****

Aurora Costa had learned a great deal in her six months of working at Gold Consolidated.  She’d learned coffee was the lifeblood of all who worked there, and if the pot wasn’t at least half full and piping hot, riots would ensue. She’d learned that the color printer had occasional moments of demonic possession, which were usually stifled with a large paperclip inserted in a specific spot.  And she’d learned that she would have to put up with Killian Jones for the sake of keeping her job. 

As his personal assistant, he’d gotten her an iPhone for consistent communication, which at first, had thrilled her.  She and her husband, Phillip, had been living paycheck to paycheck and had dropped their cell phone plan, purely for the sake of keeping current with their student loans. But the iPhone had become something of a burden to her—Killian rarely stopped haranguing her for errands and when he wasn’t constantly calling her, he was sending texts that were far from appropriate.  She staved him off as best she could, but it was hard, as his advances got more pronounced every day. 

Phillip had yet to find a full-time job and had been shuttling between temp positions.  They counted on her biweekly paycheck and if she displeased Killian, they’d be evicted in less than a month.

She jumped when the small speaker by her desk crackled, and she heard her boss say smoothly, “Rory, darling, would you mind coming in for a moment?” 

Rory sighed, picking up her pen and notebook.  She entered his office, giving him a placid smile.

“Shut the door, love,” Killian requested, leaning back in his chair. 

She hesitated, but her placid smile did not falter as she closed the open door. “Did you want something dictated?” Rory asked taking a seat in the uncomfortably sharp chair in front of his desk. 

He didn’t answer her, seeming to prefer giving her a onceover instead.  “You know, Rory, every time I see you, you just get more and more beautiful.”  He came out from behind his desk, placing his hands upon her bare shoulders. She cleared her throat, shrugging him off. 

“Should we get back to work?” Rory suggested hopefully.

“Always the busy little bee,” Killian gave a mock sigh. “C’mon darling, you mustn’t be so tense all the time. Just look at your poor shoulders, all full of knots…” He squeezed her shoulders hard and she flinched, biting her tongue.  She would bruise, come tomorrow, her delicate skin had never been able to take such ministrations easily, it was why Phillip always took great care in being gentle…

Rory felt his lips suddenly on her neck and she quickly stepped away from him, clearing her throat again. 

“Mr. Jones, you know I’m married,” She held up her left hand in emphasis. 

“Oh, I know, I know,” Killian waved a careless hand in reciprocation. “It’s crazy, isn’t it? How unstoppable attraction is?” 

Rory wasn’t entirely sure how to answer this without offending so she raised and lowered one shoulder.  “Mr. Jones, I really should get back to work if you have nothing for me…”

“Of course, love,” He spun her towards the door and gave her a sharp pat on the behind. “Off you go, then.” 

She bit her tongue  _hard_ , tasting blood, and did not acknowledge the gesture. But it came as great relief when she exited his office, sighing into her chair. Her iPhone buzzed and she glanced at it in apprehension.

A text from Killian:   _I’ll be thinking of you tonight_

****

Emma had requested that Belle type and print out several copies of a forty page business proposal on a deal with the Mills Corporation on the color printer, bind it, and ensure that she, Mr. Jones, Mr. Gold, and the rest of the executive had a copy.  Strangely enough, this was not a particularly intimidating task for Belle, as she was a particularly fast typist and actually knew how to work an old-fashioned binding machine.  She got the proposal typed up in two hours, and had it cleaned up and edited in half that time. Her next challenge was figuring out the color printer, which Rory had warned her about. 

She selected the correct printer on her computer, double checked that there was enough paper, and wandered into the lair of the color printer. 

It didn’t seem that intimidating a creature.  It was a fair bit larger than most of the printers Belle had seen, but that should be no trouble.  She placed her hands on her hips and stared at the color printer expectantly, waiting for it to hum to life. 

The printer did nothing, merely blinked SLEEP.

Belle sighed, pressing the green checkmark button.  She smiled in triumph when the contraption whirred but her victory was short-lived.  The machine started beeping loudly, its whirrs grinding furiously and Belle glanced around nervously at the obnoxious noise. 

Suddenly, it began printing.  She sighed in relief, picking up the first page, but frowned when her beautiful proposal was not a clean cut blue—but a violent, neon pink. 

“No—stop it!” Belle ordered, mashing the X button with her thumb.  The printer paid no heed to her, resolutely printing the proposal in varying shades of pink and violet. 

“Cancel, CANCEL!” She said frantically, attempting to turn it off.  She snatched the quickly gathering papers out of the slot and tried hitting the X button once more. 

To her horror, the printer had finished the first proposal and was now dutifully printing the second.  She twisted, attempting to reach the power cord, and promptly tripped over herself, scattering the first proposal all over the floor. 

“Damn it!” Belle wailed, scrambling to gather the sheets of paper.  But before she could gather them all, the printer’s tray had apparently reached its limit, and was now spitting paper at her, dropping even more sheets. 

“What the bloody hell are you doing?”

Belle turned to see her boss storm in, stomping across the lurid fragments of the proposal.  Killian smacked his hand on the X button—and Belle watched in outrage as the printer meekly complied to his command, stopping the process at once. 

“What is all this?” Killian demanded, gesturing to the mess at Belle’s feet.

“I was printing something for Emma,” Belle answered, throwing up her hands. “It wasn’t printing the colors I selected, and it wouldn’t stop—”

“I know this proposal,” Killian picked up one of the sheets, looking disgusted at the neon pink lettering. “You’d think a college graduate would realize that a proposal of this nature can’t look like Lisa Frank designed it!”

“I didn’t—this wasn’t—” Belle stammered. “I didn’t format it this way, the file is—”

“Look, I’ll make it plain,” Killian snapped. “If you can’t manage your workload, if you can’t realize that your girlish typing habits aren’t appropriate, I can find another girl to replace you in a minute. Clean this mess up  _now_ , or you can consider this your first  _and_  last week.”  He strode out of the room and Belle glared at him, enraged.  

****

“Say that again,” Emma said dangerously. 

Killian Jones rolled his eyes.  “Please, Emma love,  _spare_  me the dramatics. I really wanted to avoid a scene.” 

“Oh, this isn’t a scene,” Emma balled up her fists. “We’re not at that point yet. I want you to repeat what you just said to me. Look me in the eye, and _say that again_.”

Killian’s eyes bored into hers.  “I said, I gave the promotion to Sidney Glass.”

“You know,” Emma folded her arms against her chest. “That’s what I thought you said. Tell me something, Jones, how long has Glass worked here?”

Killian sighed.  “A year and a half.”

“And how long have I worked here?”

“Ten years, but—”     

“Ten years,” Emma remarked in sarcastic surprise. “You know, I think that’s a little bit more than a year and a half. Which is hilarious considering I was the one trained Sidney. And you. And pretty much everyone on this damn floor.” 

“Look, no one’s denying you’re not qualified,” Killian ruffled his hair. “But—Glass gets on better with the clients. They take him more seriously than they do you.”

“Why?” Emma asked icily. “Because he’s male?”

“Oh, don’t turn this into some feminist thing,” Killian rolled his eyes. “I’ve made my decision, Emma. Don’t make me remind you, once again, that this isn’t up to you, it’s up to me.” 

“Oh, you,” Emma remarked snidely. “The man who can’t even fix his own goddamn cup of coffee, the man who takes  _my_  proposals, deletes my name and adds his, the man who has little to know idea what’s going on internationally and relies on  _my_ reports, probably because he’s too busy fucking his secretary!”

Right as the words flew out of her mouth, something fell to the ground, and both of them turned to see Aurora looking shocked and angry. 

“ _What did you say_?” She screeched, looking appalled and Emma rolled her eyes.  She had so busy yelling at her dick of a boss, she hadn’t heard Rory’s entry.

“Oh give it a rest, princess,” Emma snarled at the younger woman. “Everyone knows what you two do behind closed doors. Your boyfriend has made no secret of that.”  She stomped out of Killian’s office, slamming the door behind her. 

“I’m leaving early,” She announced to the floor. “And getting a drink. Lock up when you’re done.”  And with that, Emma Swan exited.

****

Rory prided herself on being a lady.  She was from a wealthy family in New England, her mother a concert pianist, her father a governor.  She had been raised with privilege and grace.  She was the  _last_  person to make a scene.

But the time for ladylike sensibilities had come and gone. 

“How dare you,  _how dare you_!” Rory shrieked in decibels only dogs could hear. “You’ve been telling everyone I’ve been  _fucking_  you?!”

“C’mon now, get a hold of yourself,” Killian cleared his throat and looked almost nervous at his usually sweet-tempered secretary’s wrath. “I can’t stand a hysterical woman…”

“Well, no fucking  _wonder_  everyone here treats me like shit! Thinking that I would cheat on my husband for a narcissistic sociopath, as if I would ever degrade myself for you!”  Rory cornered him behind his desk, about ready to pound his face in. 

“You’re overreacting love, you—” Killian tried to say.

Rory smacked a pencil case off his desk for emphasis.  “You learn right this instant that I am not nor ever  _will_ be your love!” She snarled at him. “The only person allowed to call me that is my husband and you’re lucky I’ve had the discretion not to tell him, or you’d have a bullet in your gut by now!”

“Well, I—” He tried to laugh at that but Rory was far from finished.

“And you! You just love it, don’t you, you get some kind of sick power fantasy about it, sending me texts and pictures all the time, knowing it makes me feel uncomfortable, never mind that I’ve asked you to stop a thousand times!” She shook her fist angrily.

“Rory, you need to calm down—” Killian pleaded, actually looking terrified, placing his hands on her shoulders, but that turned out to be a fatal mistake.

Rory slapped him hard across the face, staggering him slightly.  “Get your filthy hands off of me! Now you listen to me. I’ve been completely upfront with you since the day I met you, and I put up with your disgusting texts and forced presents and panting and innuendos, and I did that because I need this job, but this is the last straw!”  She jerked a finger under his chin as he stood against the wall. 

“I’ve got a concealed carry license and I am a proud member of the NRA,” Rory hissed. “And I’ve been forgiving and forgetting because of the way I was raised, but if you cannot find it within yourself to be a gentleman, I shall happily make you a lady!” And with that, Rory stormed out of his office, leaving her terrified boss to contemplate the immediate enforcement of metal detectors in the lobby.

****

“I’m leaving early, Belle,” Rory announced.  Belle glanced at her in surprise and took in her pink cheeks and gripped fists. 

“Everything okay?” She asked cautiously.

“Oh, it will be once I have a few drinks in me,” Rory said darkly and Belle watched her friend carefully. 

“Maybe I better come with you,” She said decidedly, grabbing her coat. “You can tell me all about it.”


	3. I'd Rather Be High

Belle had forgotten her purse, so she requested that Aurora wait in the lobby for her while she retrieved it.  It was probably bad form, she thought to herself, pressing the down button of the elevator, her purse comfortably slung over her shoulder, to leave early her first week.  But what else could she do?  Friends were more important than her career; in any case, this situation seemed to warrant both matters. 

The elevator doors opened and she gasped.  Tavish Gold stood right in front of her, blinking in surprise. 

“We meet again,” He remarked. “Come to this place often?” 

She couldn’t help but giggle girlishly as she stepped inside, thanking her luck that no one else followed her.  She pressed the lobby button and attempted not to stare.

“You seem to be settling in nicely,” Gold observed. “You’re a very talented editor.” 

Belle blinked at him in surprise and he chuckled a little. 

“I’ve worked with Killian Jones for over ten years,” He said dryly. “I know his writing style. His latest emails and proposals have been unusually grammatical, less typos and errors.” 

She flushed.  “Well—I was an English major, once upon a time.”  She attempted to squelch the feelings of delight and pleasure that he had noticed and complimented her. 

“Going to lunch?” Gold asked her idly, and from the peculiar, almost too cavalier tone in his voice, she almost wondered if he was about to ask to join her. 

“Oh—er, no, I’m taking the rest of the day off,” Belle explained, fidgeting with the strap of her purse. “Just meeting with some friends.” 

He observed her carefully, and she wondered if she was about to be told off for leaving early her first week. 

“Is everything all right?” Gold asked simply and her heart swelled. 

“Yes,” Belle assured him. “Just a little—little friend emergency. I know it will work out, I just…just want to be there.”  To her regret, the elevator doors opened and she stepped out into the lobby.  Tavish Gold followed. 

“Well,” He said quietly. “Please…let me know if there’s anything I can do.” She smiled at him and he gave her an awkward smile back that immediately endeared him to her.  She flashed him one more grin and reached Rory, who was glumly checking her phone.

****

The bar wasn’t particularly seedy, but the atmosphere of the place was depressing.  Belle noticed Emma immediately, hunched over a whiskey sour, crumbling peanuts under her fingers.  She led Rory towards her, taking a seat. 

Emma eyed them both suspiciously.  “What are you guys doing here?”

“I needed a drink,” Rory announced. “A cosmopolitan, please.”

Emma snorted.  “Why do  _you_ need a drink? Aren’t you living the dream? Getting all those presents, probably get paid more than the rest of us, all for sleeping with—”

“Emma, enough,” Belle interrupted coldly. “Rory wasn’t sleeping with Killian.”  She ordered a vodka martini with extra olives, settling on the barstool with a sigh.

“Oh, c’mon,” Emma scoffed. “Everyone knows—”

“Where is everyone getting this information?” Rory demanded. “From who? Me? I’ve never even  _heard_  of this till today. Coming from Killian Jones, a highly reliable source, Emma?” 

Emma opened her mouth and closed it.  There was a long pause between the women, and finally, Emma cleared her throat.

“The thing about me, is for a smart person, I do some stupid shit,” She cleared her throat again. “I’m sorry, Rory. I shouldn’t have just assumed. Killian has had no trouble getting laid usually, I guess I just…” 

“Well, the relationship I’m in—I won’t call it usual or even normal,” Rory swallowed a sip of her drink. “But I’m committed to it and I wouldn’t ruin it for a slimy man like Killian.” 

“I think you should file a complaint against him,” Belle put in cautiously. “Sexual harassment isn’t something that can be shoved under the rug anymore, it can legitimately get him out of there.” 

“No, it won’t,” Emma sighed. “Thanks to Tavish Gold’s pride.” 

“What do you mean?” Belle asked in alarm.  Emma took a deep breath.

“Okay, so a long time ago, Gold was married to Neal’s mom, right? Bitchy woman named Michelle. Well, Killian Jones had an affair with her while still working for Gold—it was a huge scandal, huge embarrassment. But Gold refused to fire Jones, because Jones was still making them money, was still a technical asset to the company. Gold just flat out refused. His pride was more important, which is why Killian’s still here, taking credit for my work and harassing the underlings.”  Emma downed her drink and Belle wrinkled her nose. 

“In any case, why should Gold care?” Rory sighed, her finger circling her glass. “We’re nothing to him. He’s not exactly a savior of women.” 

Belle disagreed.  She had the uncanny feeling that were she to bring up her concerns with Tavish Gold, he  _would_  help—but she had been outvoted.  She finished her drink with a long sigh. 

“So…what now?” 

“I’ll tell you what,” Rory said promptly. “We’ll all go over to my house, have some more drinks, start our weekend off early. What do you say?” 

Belle grinned.  “I think that’s a wonderful idea. What do you say, Emma? Up for it?”

Emma eyed them both and then broke out in a smile.  “You know what? Let’s do it. Let me call Neal and tell him to pick up Henry, and then I’m yours.” 

****

Rory’s apartment was cramped but cozy.  It had the look of a well-loved home, the furnishings cheap but pretty, the walls decorated with pictures. To Belle’s surprise, she noticed the majority of Rory’s pictures included three people, rather than two—her husband, Phillip, Rory herself, and an Asian woman.  Whatever the case, they seemed happy and full of life. 

“Phillip’s a musician,” Rory explained, bringing over a bottle of wine to the table. “He’ll be back probably around 3 or 4 AM, he always does late night gigs on weekends.” 

“And your roommate?” Emma gestured to one of the photos.  Rory flushed a little bit. 

“That’s Ming,” She cleared her throat. “She’s a journalist, she travels a lot. She won’t be back for another week. Unfortunately. She’s…very close to Phillip and me.”  There was a peculiar stain of pink on Rory’s cheeks, but Emma had moved on from the subject. 

“So, check this out,” She withdrew something from her purse and Belle’s eyes widened. “Who’s up for a smoke?” 

“Oh my God,” Rory squealed. “I haven’t seen one of those since high school! Where did you even get that?”

“My friend Jefferson,” Emma replied smugly. “He told me I needed to loosen up, if you’ll believe it. So let’s loosen up!” 

Belle coughed.  “I’ve uh…never actually done pot,” She said meekly, taking a seat before them. 

“Didn’t you go to high school—or college for that matter?” Emma demanded mischievously, rummaging through her purse for a lighter. 

“I was a quiet nerd in high school,” Belle declared. “And in college I rarely left the library. You’ll have to corrupt me, ladies.” 

“Glad to!” Emma crowed, lighting up. 

****

Several hours later, Emma, Rory, and Belle lay sprawled across the couch, watching an Audrey Hepburn movie. 

“I’m having a nervous breakdown,” Audrey said shakily on the television screen and Rory groaned, hiding under a pillow.

“I relate,” She whimpered. “I relate. I want Phillip. And Ming.” She buried her face in Belle’s shoulders, who was watching the movie avidly. 

“I don’t really feel anything,” She remarked brightly. “Except at how attractive Cary Grant is. Look at those lovely silver streaks in his hair. And look at Audrey go at him. I could be like Audrey. Audrey didn’t care that she was just newly single, that she hardly knew Cary Grant, that everything said he was bad news. She followed her heart. I could be like that.” 

“You sure get chatty when you’re high,” Emma commented dryly. “Goddammit, where the hell are those egg rolls? I ordered them like five minutes ago, WHY AREN’T THEY HERE?!”

“I think I read somewhere that Audrey Hepburn’s coat is in a museum somewhere,” Belle’s eyes went big and she smacked both women’s legs. “ _We should steal it._ Right after I take Cary Gold into my bedroom.” 

“No, what we should do,” Emma pronounced, not noticing Belle’s slip of the tongue. “Is kill Killian Jones.” 

Rory emerged from her pillows and Belle’s back, gasping.  “ _We should_. That would be  _amazing_.” 

“How would you do it, Belle?” Emma laughed maniacally. “How would you kill Jones?! You’re such a goody two shoes, you’ve got to be hiding some evil. _Tell us_.” 

Belle’s eyes brightened.  “You know…I know exactly what I would do. I’d hunt him down, just like a deer…”

_Belle walked through the dark, empty office, shotgun close to her chest.  It was night, the fluorescent lights flickering on and off—she had cut the power.  The sound of dogs barking made a raucous in the distance, and she smiled knowingly._

_She opened the door to Killian’s office, clicking it shut.  She smiled when she saw Killian Jones, huddled near his desk._

_“Well, hello Jones,” Belle greeted him easily. “Looks like you’ve gotten yourself in a spot of trouble.”_

_“Belle, you’ve got to help me,” Killian said desperately. “There’s an angry mob out there, they want to kill me!”_

_“Now why would they want to do a nasty thing like that?” Belle wondered aloud. “Perhaps because you’re a sexist egotistical lying hypocritical bigot?”_

_Killian flinched at the terminology.  “I’m not so bad,” He protested. “Thousands of women love me.”_

_"Sexist egotistical lying hypocritical bigots can certainly have pretty faces,” Belle said kindly, cocking her rifle. “But I call a spade a spade, a wart on the face of humanity. And now, I’m going to blast it off. Goodbye, boss man. Quittin’ time.”  She fired the shotgun towards him and Killian yelped.  He dove across his desk, scrambling towards the door._

_Killian ran like a man on fire through the office.  He hit the ground when Belle calmly cocked her shotgun once more, firing, Apple computers exploding all around him._

_He continued to run madly, Belle firing at anything that moved, until he screamed like a little girl.  Hiding under a plastic wastebasket, he dashed through a pink door and Belle followed him into a women’s bathroom.  She slowly walked towards the last stall, heels clicking against the linoleum, and kicked the door down.  Killian sat, huddled on the toilet._

_"This is for all the rapey innuendos,” Belle declared before firing her shotgun.  The dream melted into Belle’s new office, where Killian Jones’ head was mounted on the wall while Belle calmly cleaned her gun._

_“A remarkable shot,” Tavish Gold appeared in her doorway. “I am impressed.”_

_"You ought to be,” Belle returned. “Always happy to exterminate your pest problems, Mr. Gold…”_

_He walked towards her and she snatched his tie, capturing him like a leash. “Please,” He rumbled and she shivered at his hot breath on her cheek. “Call me Tavish…”_

“These egg rolls are fucking delicious,” Emma moaned, breaking Belle out of her reverie.

“Thank you for making me waffles, Belle,” Rory said with childlike innocence. “I love waffles so much.” 

“I can’t believe I can even cook,” Belle pondered, taking a seat next to Rory at the dining room table. “It feels weird to walk. Walking is so weird. We just stand up and move our legs and suddenly we’re  _walking_.” 

The three women erupted into giggles.  Gasping for breath, Belle reached over and poked Rory. 

“Rory, how would you do him in?” She wanted to know. “Tell me! What would you do?” 

Rory attempted to control herself.  “Oh, I…I don’t know,” She giggled, taking a large bite of a twizzler. 

“Yes you do!” Emma accused. “You know  _exactly_  what you’d do. Tell us now!” 

Rory’s eyes sparkled.  “All right—well, if you girls must know—I’d give him a little taste of his own medicine, y’know? If he weren’t such a scumbag, he would be attractive…so I’d let him know how it feels…”

The _office no longer looked like a jungle—rather, it looked like an English boarding school.  Rory came riding up on a beautiful, black stallion, decked head to toe in expensive, English riding wear.  She dismounted easily, brushing the dirt off her clean, cream-colored breeches, and smacked her riding crop against the palm of her hand.  She strolled into our office, pressing the intercom button._

_"Killian Jones,” She sang out. “Get your sexy ass in here, please.”_

_The door opened and Killian Jones entered.  He looked almost abashed—which was no wonder, as he was wearing naught but a leather speedo and a snazzy bowtie around his neck._

_"Good morning, Mrs. Costa,” Killian said meekly and Rory held up her riding crop._

_"Hold it right there,” She ordered._

_"S-something wrong?”_

_"No, not at all,” Rory gave him a sunny smile. “Just enjoying the view. So glad you took up my suggestion to wear that little number, it really shows off your ass nicely.”_

_Killian managed a forced smile and Rory cocked her head, smacking the riding crop against her palms._

_"You know, what happened to that lovely eyeliner I bought you?” She wondered aloud. “Your eyes could be so sexy, you know, so sensual. You ought to wear that, show them off.”_

_"Yes, Mrs. Costa,” Killian cleared his throat awkwardly. “Please, Mrs. Costa…you’re making me uncomfortable.”_

_"Oh, rubbish,” Rory said idly, fingering her crop. “You’re too tense is all. Don’t you know how to take a compliment? It’s a compliment for me to say how tight your ass looks, You should be more grateful.”  She circled her desk like a vulture, facing him head on.  She smacked her crop against his chest and he flinched._

_"Now just you remember,” Rory said with deathly calm. “From nine to five, your life belongs to me, you hear me? If you care about your job, you better do as I say.”  She smacked her crop against his behind and Killian muffled a yelp._

_At this point, it seemed Killian had had enough.  He ran for the door and Rory clucked impatiently._

_"It’s not my discipline, but I am proficient,” She remarked, lifting a leather rope from one of the wall hangings.  Like an experienced roper, she swirled it in the air, following Killian, and promptly caught him around his bare waist.  Killian fell to the ground and she hog-tied him, cocking her head in satisfaction._

_“Now that’s more like it,” Rory purred. “All tied up and nowhere to go. With that leather number, you surely are asking for it.”_

_“But you made me wear this!” Killian protested._

_Rory laughed.  “As if that’s supposed to matter!”_

****

“Once an equestrian, always an equestrian!” Rory hooted and Belle fell off the couch, she was laughing so hard. 

“And what about you?” Belle gasped, tears of mirth streaming down her cheeks. “Emma? How would you bump off the boss?”

“Hmm…” Emma contemplated. “Well—if any of you let anyone know this, I will murder you both—but I’ve always had a thing for fairytales. So I’d want it to be like that—gruesome and sick and twisted—but poetic and kinda cute…”

” _Emma! Get me some coffee!”_

_Emma beamed.  “Yes, sir!” She wore a large, purple, ballroom dress as she sat next to her desk.  She stood gracefully, skipping towards the office kitchenette.  At her heels, a large white wolf followed as well as well as an assortment of twittering birds._

_Emma glided over towards the coffee cups, snatching one down, her smile never faltering.  She poured the coffee, humming something that sounded suspiciously like the theme from Snow White, while the birds included a three-part harmony._

_She withdrew from a small cloth satchel at her side a red apple with a large bite mark in it.  She hummed a little tune and the apple disappeared into purple smoke, which seeped into the hot cup of coffee.  She stirred it, the metal spoon dissolving, and sighed._

_“Such a pity I’m out of flour. Apple turnovers are just the thing for coffee in the morning,” Emma said brightly to the white wolf who whined in response._

_She strolled out of the kitchenette, heading straight for Killian’s office, a delighted smile on her face as the birds twittered around her.  Killian was busily reading a memo as she carefully placed the Mickey Mouse mug in front of him._

_“Your coffee, Mr. Jones,” Emma purred._

_He didn’t even glance at her, picked up the coffee and took a sip.  A bird tweeted in laughter and Emma sternly put her finger on her mouth, shushing the creature._

_Suddenly, Killian jerked, steam coming out of his ears.  He screamed in agony and Emma giggled girlishly.  His head began spinning like a top on his shoulders and the white wolf howled in distress.  Emma petted its head gently._

_Killian’s head came to an abrupt halt and Emma clucked.  “I think there was something in that coffee,” He sobbed aloud._

_Emma stepped behind his swivel chair, leaning next to his ear.  “I think you’re right.”_

_“I think it was poison!”  Emma chuckled as she pushed his chair towards the window._

_“Right again,” Emma sang, opening the window._

_“I think you did it!” Killian wailed, clutching his armrests.  Emma didn’t answer, only sang a lovely warble, before sticking her tongue out._

_"But why?” Killian swallowed as Emma cranked a lever, lifting his chair off the ground._

_“Why do you think?” Emma asked philosophically as the birds began their three part harmony._

_"Because I’m a sexist egotistical lying hypocritical bigot?” Killian attempted a smarmy smile that did nothing to falter Emma._

_"Bingo!” Emma announced, cranking the lever.  Her hapless boss was then launched out the window into the stratosphere.  The doors burst open and Belle and Rory glided in, each with their own princess dresses, waving at the cheering crowd below._

“I think Belle is stoned,” Rory announced as Belle rolled around on the ground, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Am I?” She giggled hysterically. “Am I? I hope so! Can someone send Cary Gold to my room now please?” 

Rory and Emma exchanged bemused looks.  “Definitely stoned,” Emma snorted. “Let’s take her to your room to sleep it off.”


	4. Coffee Break

The following Monday was far from enjoyable, but Belle was happy to have warm friends waiting for her.  Emma and Rory were sharing a laugh by the water cooler when Belle arrived, and Belle greeted them both with a smile. 

“How about we all have lunch today?” She suggested. “Rory always knows the best cafes around here.” 

“Sorry, guys, I can’t,” Emma sighed. “I’ve got a crap ton of grocery shopping to do—I should’ve done it over the weekend, but I got caught up in Henry’s soccer games and on Sunday I was just too bone tired. I have to get lizard food, dog food, paper towels, not to mention some mouse traps for the basement…”    

“Mm, this afternoon I have to drive across town to deliver some documentation to our attorneys,” Rory said regretfully. “I was going to leave on my lunch hour so I could have some extra time.”

“Great,” Emma grumbled. “That puts me on coffee duty.” 

Sure enough, as soon as Rory left for the law office that afternoon, Killian poked his head out of his office and ordered Emma to bring him one, extra hot with just a pinch of creamer. 

Belle found Emma slamming about in the kitchenette.  “Everything all right?” She asked cautiously. 

 “One of these days, I’m going to lose it,” Emma announced stirring in a spoonful of creamer into the mug of coffee. “I’m telling you, Belle. Just plain lose it. Chop off his hand or something—I’m so done with his bullshit!”

“He’s just trying to make you angry,” Belle said comfortingly. “You can’t let him get under your skin.” 

“Well, it’s working,” Emma grumbled angrily.  She sighed and blinked, noticing a stack of papers in Belle’s hands. 

 “What are those?” She asked curiously. 

“Ah, the reason I came to see you,” Belle held them up. “I was hoping you could tell me where the mailroom was, I think Neal delivered these to me by mistake.” 

“That’s weird,” Emma remarked. “Neal is scarily good at his job. Did he mess up your last name or something?”

“No, see, these are addressed to Tavish Gold,” Belle showed them to her. “I don’t know how they got onto my desk.” 

Emma blinked at them.  “Yeah…don’t know how. Well, the mailroom is three floors down. You go on ahead, I better deliver this coffee.”  She rolled her eyes in emphasis and exited the kitchenette.

****

Belle found Neal sitting comfortably, feet on the table in front of him, perusing a newspaper, oblivious to the chaos around him.  The room was covered in envelopes, sacks of letters, packages, but Neal seemed tranquil in the churning squalor. 

“Well, hiya, Belle,” He greeted her, folding down his newspaper. “What’s shaking?” 

“Nothing much,” Belle smiled back at him. “It’s just—I think you made a mistake. You see these? They’re addressed to Tavish Gold, not me, but it somehow ended up on my desk.” 

“Well, huh,” Neal drawled, barely glancing at the stack. “Clumsy of me. Lucky it’s an easy mistake to fix.” 

This was certainly true for Neal Gold.  Belle gently set the stack down on the table in front of him.  “I’ll just leave these here, shall I?”

“Why would you do that?” Neal said comfortably. “I mean, those are probably important. This entire company is dependent on the mail, see. So my old man probably really needs those.”  Despite his words, he didn’t seem very anxious about the situation, as he chuckled at a comic strip. 

“Well—won’t you take these to him?” Belle asked and he chuckled.

“Ooh, sorry, Belle, really can’t,” He said lazily. “Super busy right now. Manic Mondays, am I right? You’d better just pop up to his office and leave them there.” 

“But—” Belle started, suddenly nervous.  Gold’s office had not been expressly forbidden—it didn’t have to be, everyone knew not to go up there without good reason.  Then again, Neal had a point.  Their business was reliant on timely mail.  And she was lying to herself if she wasn’t the least bit curious about Gold’s office. 

****

The top floor of Gold Consolidated was deathly quiet.  It was a marked change from the clacking of computers, the shuffling of papers, and the hum of the printers on her floor.  She passed one or two interns that were completely silent, buried in their portfolios, not even noticing her. 

When Belle reached his door, she nearly lost her nerve, considering leaving the mail with one of the grave interns and scuttling back to her cubicle.  But she took a deep breath, placed her hand on the door, and twisted it open. 

The office was empty and Belle let out the breath she’d been holding.  It was a large and beautiful room, with furnishings of dark mahogany and ebony, and a curious assortment of desk and shelf ornaments littering every available space.  She smiled when she saw a picture of Neal holding a young child, presumably his and Emma’s son.  Her heart warmed further when she saw another photograph of the three men together, laughing with careless abandon. 

Emma had alluded to problems within the family, so Belle was not surprised at the lack of pictures of Emma, though she did discover one of Emma holding a newborn in a hospital bed.  It was framed on the shelf.  Nearer on his desk, there were photos of a little boy, presumably Neal as a child, playing soccer, climbing trees, various birthday parties.  She felt as though she was peeking into Tavish Gold’s life and from what she gathered, he deeply loved and cherished his family. 

“What are you doing in here?” 

Gold’s voice was sharp and Belle jumped a foot.  She turned to see him in the doorway, looking deeply annoyed.

“I’m so sorry,” She said distressed. “Neal said—he delivered me the wrong mail, it was your mail, so I came up here but I thought you’d be in your office and I was just going to leave it on your desk but—”

“Miss French,” Gold interrupted heading near her. “Forgive me for startling you, it wasn’t my intention. I didn’t realize it was—that is, I should not have snapped. I apologize.”  He took the stack of envelopes from her gently and to her relief, the ire had completely disappeared from his expression. 

Belle exhaled.  “I really wasn’t trying to intrude,” She reiterated. “I didn’t know if these were important and Neal said I better get them to you as quickly as possible.”

“Why didn’t Neal bring them?” Gold questioned and suddenly grinned. “Not that I’m complaining.”

There was something strangely  _flirtatious_  about his tone and it warmed her stomach.  “Er, he said he was terribly busy and didn’t have the time.” 

“Did he,” Gold murmured darkly.  He looked suddenly annoyed again, though not at her, and Belle wondered why. 

“Well, I’m sorry for interrupting,” Belle cleared her throat. “And intruding. You do have a lovely office.” 

He smiled at her.  “Miss French, you are welcome to intrude any time you wish,” He assured her. “In fact…if you’ve no plans for—”

“Mr. Gold,” A spindly looking man blustered in. “Mr. Gold, we’re having a crisis in regards to Regal Agency’s portfolios. The spread is—” He did a double take towards Belle.

Gold sighed.  “Then again, maybe not,” He muttered in a voice so low, Belle almost didn’t catch it. “Thank you for dropping off my mail, Miss French.” 

Belle smiled at him again, feeling a bit crestfallen.  It had almost sounded—for a moment as if he was asking—

She didn’t want to get her hopes up.

****

“Belle, where have you been?” Emma cornered her outside the elevator. “I’ve been looking all over the place for you!” 

Belle blinked, her face slightly flushing.  “I, er, I had to drop something off. Is everything all right?” 

“Well, time will tell,” Emma remarked dryly, folding her arms over her chest. “Jones was just taken to the hospital.”

“ _What_?!”

“No lie,” Emma walked with her towards the break room. “Rory found him in his office keeled over, chair on the floor, feet in the air, unconscious. Can you believe that? My guess is he’s on drugs.” 

“Your guess or your hope?” Belle resisted a giggle. “Do you think he’ll be all right?”

“No idea,” Emma shrugged. “Come on, help me clean up the break area.” She leaned down to collect the mugs from the dishwasher while Belle tided up the counters. 

Belle frowned, noticing a small canister that read RODENT BE GONE. “Emma,” She called. “Did you mean to leave this out here? We don’t have a mouse problem, do we?” 

Emma’s brow furrowed.  “No…I bought some this afternoon for our basement, but I thought I brought that home…”  Her expression became thoughtful.

Belle watched Emma’s face suddenly flash from confusion to realization. Her face when stark white and she sagged against the counter.

_“Oh my God_!”

“What?” Belle asked alarmed. “What’s the matter?”

“I used that!” Emma covered her mouth. “Oh my God, I used that today!”

“What are you talking about?” Belle said bewildered. “I thought you said—”

“Belle—it’s in a little plastic canister the same color as the creamer—and when I was fixing Jones’ coffee—” Emma’s voice was strangled.

Belle’s mouth fell open.  “ _Oh my God_!”

****

The two women tore into the hospital.  Aurora turned from the counter where she’d been filling out paperwork and blinked at them in confusion,

“Are you two all right?” She asked in concern. “Gracious, you look a fright.”

“Emma accidentally put rat poison in Jones’ coffee,” Belle said in a rush. “We have to tell the doctors, they need to pump his stomach!”

“What are you talking about?” Rory asked in bewilderment. “I thought it was just a concussion.”

“No, I—I mixed up a can of creamer with a can of rat poison,” Emma withdrew the culprit from under her coat in desperation. “See? It’s the same color as the creamer. I took the creamer home and put the rat poison in the break room!” 

“Oh my God,” Rory hand went to her mouth. “We’ve got to get to the emergency room—come on, it’s the first door on the left.”  She took Belle and Emma’s arms and propelled them down the hallway until Emma squawked, halting. 

“There’s a cop down there!” Emma’s breathing became shallow. 

Sure enough, Sheriff Graham Humbert was in the hallway, talking quietly to one of the doctors.  Emma sagged against Rory, while Belle cleared her throat, apparently trying not to panic.

“Now let’s stay calm,” Belle swallowed. “We don’t know for sure—”

“Belle, he’s right outside Jones’ door!” Emma hissed. “Why do you think he would be there?”

“All I want to know,” The sheriff said impatiently. “Is how long it will be until I can speak to the surgeon?” 

Emma whipped around.  “They know, oh my God, they already know,” She whimpered.

"Finally,” Graham grumbled when the surgeon stepped out. “How is he?”

“I’m afraid there was nothing more we could do,” The surgeon sighed.

Graham swore loudly, which was lucky, as Emma’s moan of fear earned a few curious stares from the orderlies. 

“Can you tell me what caused it?” Graham asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

“Not without an autopsy,” The surgeon replied, leading them away. “I’m fairly certain it was some kind of poison.”

"Come on, Rory, help me get her down,” Belle said through gritted teeth, as Emma was leaning heavily on her.  Rory took Emma’s other arm and they cautiously led her to one of the waiting room chairs. 

“Oh, God, oh God,” Emma moaned again, burying her face in her hands. “I’m a murderer. A murderer!”

“You’re not a murderer,” Belle stroked her shoulder. “We have to remain calm.”

“I’m going to lose my son,” Emma’s eyes filled with tears.

“No, you’re not,” Belle said firmly. “It was an accident, surely—”

“Oh, come on Belle, don’t be naïve,” Rory interrupted sharply. “She had motive, being denied that promotion. That’s enough reason for a jury to convict.” 

“Then we’ll get her a lawyer,” Belle retorted. “Rory, do you have your phone? I can start making some calls right now, someone will be able to tell us what we need to do.”

“Come on,” Rory pulled her up. “Emma, stay here. Belle and I are going to make some calls.”  Emma watched the two step away, talking hurriedly in hushed voices.  She swallowed hard, feeling hopeless and panicked. 

Thank God for Neal.  Emma exhaled powerfully.  Neal would take Henry while she was locked up, she could count on him to keep Henry away from the media exposure.  But…Emma buried her face in her hands.  She was going to get locked away from Henry  _and_ Neal.  Suddenly all of her moments with him seemed as though she’d taken them for granted. 

Emma’s head jerked up when she heard the squeak of the wheels from the gurney.  Out of the emergency room, a doctor rolled out a body—Jones’ body, though it was covered with a sheet.

“Could I see you before you do the autopsy?” Graham entered the hallway, taking his elbow. “Just for a moment?”  The doctor shrugged and nodded, leaving the gurney alone in the middle of the hallway. 

Emma stared at the gurney.  Because of one ass of a boss, one mixup at the grocery store, her life was ruined.

Unless…

She stood quickly, walking over to the gurney.  She placed her hands on the cold metal and began to wheel it away.  


	5. No Body, No Crime

“Now where did Emma run off to?” Rory wondered aloud.

Belle paused in dialing her cell phone.  Aurora was right, the chair that once held a despondent Emma was now vacant.  But before she could track her down, both women froze as they saw Emma, clad in a white lab coat, wheeling a sheet-covered gurney out of the hospital and into the parking lot. 

“What—on earth?” Belle blustered, snapping her phone shut.  She grabbed Rory’s hand and they raced after Emma.

When they reached her, she was slamming on the horn.  “Get in!” She shouted. “I’ll explain later!”  Bewildered, both woman obediently got in the car and Emma hit the gas hard.  The car roared out of the parking lot, tearing down the street. 

“Emma!” Belle clutched the side of the car, her stomach churning from Emma’s sharp turns. “Tell me you did not steal that body!”

“No body, no crime!” Emma announced, her hands tightly fixed upon the wheels. “I don’t get caught for killing the boss, I don’t lose my job, I don’t lose my kid—everything is fine!”

“Are you crazy?” Rory demanded. “What do you propose to do with it? Bury it in the backyard?”

“I hadn’t thought that far ahead, okay?” Emma yelled back. “We’ll just—just dump it somewhere. Somewhere nowhere will find it!”

“This isn’t an episode of  _Supernatural_ , you can’t just go around stealing corpses!” Belle shouted.

“Look, all we gotta do is find some cement blocks, tie them to his feet, steal a boat, and pitch him off the edge of a pier! Foolproof!” Emma vowed, jerking the wheel sharply as she avoided a fire hydrant. 

“Emma, that was a red light!” Belle attempted to calm her voice down. “We cannot panic, all right? We’ll just turn around and take the body back, all right?”

“Belle, we can’t take the body back!” Rory wailed. “They’ll catch us for sure if we take it back! And then what are we going to say to Sheriff Graham? Three employees of Killian Jones, just taking his stiff cadaver out for a stroll?”

“Enough!” Emma bellowed. “Now unless you two have a suggestion on where to find some cement blocks, I don’t want to hear another word!”

“Emma, look out!” Rory shouted as a UPS truck appeared out of nowhere. Emma swerved and overcorrected, hitting the curb once more.  She attempted to reverse, and found that the car would not move.

“Damn it,” Emma swore. “The front fender is hitting the tire. Let me look at it.” 

“Well, I suppose we could call AAA if there’s a flat,” Rory said saucily. “Sure Mr. Repairman, the spare’s in the trunk, just above the dead body!”

“Shut it,” Emma snarled, clambering out of the car.  Rory and Belle both exited to help.

“This needs a crow bar,” Belle examined the damage.

“There’s one on the trunk,” Emma attempted to pull the fender out herself. “God, I hope we don’t have to call Neal…”

“I’ll get it,” Belle volunteered, walking round the car.  Emma tossed her the keys and Belle unlocked the trunk, grimacing a bit when she noticed the sheet-covered body.  She gingerly tried to move the head in order to reach the crow bar—and stopped short. 

This was not Killian Jones’ body.

“Emma Swan!” Belle shouted. “You come over here right this second!” 

Emma paused in her attempts to kick the fender free, and warily walked over.  “What’s the problem?”

“Who is that?” Belle demanded dangerously, pointing a finger towards the body.

Emma looked at the body for a long while.  Rory eventually joined them and gasped, covering her mouth. 

“Well, shit,” Emma finally responded. 

“’Well, shit’?” Belle thundered. “ _’Well, shit’_?! You mean to tell me that  _you stole the wrong body_?”

“Oh come on, anyone could have made that mistake!” Emma threw up her hands. 

“Unbelievable!” Belle yelled. “We have gone straight from felony to lunatic asylum!  _How could you steal the wrong body_?”

“Look, we’ll just take it back,” Emma tried to say reasonably, but only managed to look homicidal. “We’ll just drive back to the hospital and drop it off!” 

“This is not a gallon of milk, Emma, this is a dead body!” Rory exploded from her stunned silence. “Here’s an idea! I call Ming and Phillip to pick me and Belle up, and YOU can take the body back, since YOU were the one who stole it!”

Emma gaped at her and Belle tried to ignore the wholly tempting offer.

“Rory, we’re all in this together,” Belle said firmly. “We didn’t have to get into Emma’s car. We can’t abandon her now. Let’s just—let’s fix the fender, drive back to the hospital, and then we can come up with an idea on how to drop it off.” 

****

In the end, using a clever plan of Belle’s to wheel the corpse into the hospital and leave it in the bathroom, the three women eventually decided to part ways for the night.  They would say nothing to anyone, just go to work the next day as usual.  

Emma was alone for the night, but she quickly decided that was unacceptable given to how shaken she felt, and promptly drove to Neal’s apartment.  Henry was asleep on the couch when Neal let her in, and her heart stopped pounding so much when she sat next to him.  Henry shifted a little, laying his head to rest on her lap. 

“You okay?” Neal asked her, bringing her a beer and taking a seat next to her. “You look kinda pale. Sick or something?”

“Nothing,” Emma exhaled slowly. “I just wanted to see Henry for a minute. Be around someone.” 

Neal watched her carefully.  “What, you didn’t trust me to babysit?” He joked halfheartedly. 

“You know better than that,” Emma snapped grouchily. “No. I just—I didn’t want to be alone right now. I wanted to be with the people I love.” 

She realized how it sounded the moment it came out of her mouth and she held her breath as she waited for Neal’s response, refusing to look him in the eye.  Neal said nothing, but she relaxed a little when she felt his arm tentatively brush her shoulders. 

“I know the feeling,” He finally said and at that, Emma couldn’t help but glance at him.  His eyes were warm and loving and for some reason, Emma couldn’t remember all the problems the two had had for so many years. 

“Do, uh,” Emma coughed. “Do you mind if I stay the night here?”

Neal blinked at her.  “You sure you’re all right?”

“Yeah,” Emma cleared her throat. “I just don’t want to go home.” 

He smiled at her.  “Course you can stay. You can crash on my bed, I’ll take the couch soon as I put the little monster in his own bed.”  He picked Henry up and disappeared into the hallway, presumably tucking her unconscious son in.  Emma stared at her hands hard, coming to a decision. 

Neal returned with a blanket and pillow and Emma cleared her throat again.  “Or—” She looked him in the eye. “You and me can take your bed.” 

He stared at her, the blanket and pillow falling from his hands.  “Emma—seriously, what’s going on?”

Emma didn’t blame him for questioning.  For the past ten years, she’d kept him at arm’s length, so hurt by all the problems and divisions between his family and hers.  But it wasn’t Neal’s fault.  It had never been Neal’s fault. 

She went to him, wrapping her arms around his neck.  He looked so confused, so wary, so concerned about her—he knew it wasn’t like her to display this much vulnerability to anyone.  But it was safe with Neal.  She brushed her lips against his. 

He inhaled sharply and Emma couldn’t keep from smiling, so relieved she still had a physical effect on him.  Breaching the barrier between them, she slanted her mouth to his, burying her fingers in his dark hair.  He responded immediately, groaning into her mouth, and she kissed him back fiercely, marveling at how wonderful it felt to be in his arms again. 

****

Belle went into Gold Consolidated the next morning with a headache.  She hadn’t gotten much sleep the previous night, too worried about the ensuing consequences.  She was too poor to afford a lawyer and according to her midnight research, she could be tried as a coconspirator.  Honestly, the only real way out of the debacle was to place the blame wholly on Emma, but that was certainly not an option. 

She was interrupted from her reverie as she stepped into the elevator, nearly walking into Tavish Gold. 

“Oh, I’m—sorry,” She blushed. 

“This elevator is proving to be very lucky for me,” Gold remarked. “If only it would break down, then I might have a full conversation with you.”

Belle smiled at him, but her smile did not reach her eyes.

“Is everything all right?” Gold asked her, noticing. “You seem as though you have the world upon your shoulders.” 

She stared at him, trying to absorb his image, so it would be burned permanently into her brain.  If she were in jail, she would never see this wonderful, enigmatic man again.  She’d never gotten a chance to know him because she’d been so afraid of overstepping her bounds. 

But if they threw her in jail—and admittedly she was going overboard—but didn’t that mean she had nothing left to lose? 

Belle stepped towards him.  His eyes widened slightly, but he did not react as she stretched on her tiptoes till they were nose to nose.  She noticed there were flecks of gold in his brown eyes, that seemed to glint with warmth—but so easily they could turn to steel.  To her surprise, he looked almost nervous and she smiled when his trembling hand gently brushed a stray curl from her cheek.

The elevator doors opened and Belle quickly stepped away from him, feeling suddenly mortified at her boldness.  Her mouth fell open when Killian Jones stepped into the elevator. 

Almost immediately, Gold stiffened, his expression turning to ice.  Belle frantically tried to think of something to say.

"M-Mr. Jones,” Her voice quavered. “I, er—I thought you—”

“Well, I’m touched at your concern, Miss French,” Killian purred, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Was just a little bump on the head. Damn chair in my office has been broken for months, our sweet Aurora overreacted a bit calling the ambulance.”             

Belle tried to process what he was telling her.  So Emma hadn’t poisoned Killian?

“But you are such a darling for worrying,” Killian began to rub her shoulders and Belle attempted to step away, a difficult feat in such tight quarters. 

Suddenly, Gold snatched Killian’s arm and jerked him off of her.  “Enough,” He snarled dangerously. “Don’t make  _me_  send you to the hospital.”

“Oh, my apologies, Mr. Gold,” Killian said smarmily. “Didn’t realize she was yours.”  Belle bristled.

“She isn’t  _anyone’s_ , and you’re walking a damn fine line,” Gold snapped. “You’re lucky no one’s reported you directly to me, because the moment they do…”

The elevator doors opened and Belle realized this was her floor.  Killian realized it as well. 

“Off to work, Belle darling,” He smiled at her tightly. “Don’t want to upset your supervisors. You already seemed to cause a bit of trouble, and it’s not even nine.”  Belle quickly exited.

****

“Unbelievable,” Belle murmured to Rory in the printer room. “After all that fuss, after all that lunacy, Killian Jones was in the hospital for a mild concussion! And you were the one to call the ambulance!”

“If you’ll recall, I didn’t think it was rat poison until Emma told me it was rat poison,” Rory replied wryly, glancing at Emma, who was changing the printer cartridge. 

“Look, I  _did_  accidentally poison his coffee,” Emma informed both of them huffily. “He just must have dropped it or something or never even got the chance to drink it. I overreacted, okay?”

“To say the least,” Belle smirked, crossing her arms. “My God, I wish we’d found out earlier. I acted like a moron earlier this morning, when I was in the elevator…” 

“You want to talk about moronic behavior,” Emma said grimly. “I spent the night with Neal. For the first time in ten years, Henry woke up to both parents making him breakfast.” 

Rory dropped her stack of papers.  “You spent the night with Neal?!” 

“I had a weak moment, okay?” Emma grumbled, kicking the printer. “Can we not talk about this?”

“Does this mean you’re back together with Neal?” Belle pressed.

“What, are you deaf?” Emma wanted to know. “I told you, I don’t want to talk about this. Let’s just focus on the fact that this whole thing is behind us and move on with our lives.” 

“Fine with me,” Rory murmured. “Though for Belle’s future knowledge, I do have to agree with Emma—‘we may never see each other again’ sex is really the best kind.”  She winked and Emma snickered, the three women exiting the printer room. 

They were laughing so hard, they did not notice Sidney Glass standing outside the door, listening to every word. 


	6. Tangled

The moment Belle realized she’d forgotten her umbrella at home was the moment she stepped out of her car and the heavens unleashed a deluge.  She’d thought she could beat the storm to the office; apparently she was wrong.  Attempting to shield her hair, she lifted her purse over her head and tried to rush to her office building, slipping and sliding in her heels.  

_Why_  hadn’t she thought to bring an umbrella?  The humidity always wreaked havoc on her hair, turning her pretty curls into a frizzy nightmare.  She sneezed loudly as she entered the building, ruefully resisting the urge to take off her shoes.  She had a space heater under her desk, thank God, hopefully that would be enough to stave off the cold—she could already feel her nose twitching. 

“Miss French?”

Belle turned to see Gold walking in, folding up a black umbrella.  His brow furrowed when he took in her bedraggled appearance.

“I got caught in the rain,” She admitted. “Forgot my umbrella—hence my drowned rat appearance.”

“I can see that,” Gold replied, raising a brow.  They walked towards the elevator and Belle did everything in her power to withhold another sneeze.  Her traitorous nose, however, at that precise moment decided to make a run for it.  She dug around in her coat pockets, searching for a tissue, until Gold tapped her on the shoulder.  He was holding a small white handkerchief. 

“I must confess, despite my son’s mockery, I am something of a dinosaur, I do still carry handkerchiefs,” Gold smiled at her.  Trying not to flush, she took the bit of cloth and held it to her nose without blowing.  She could only embarrass herself so much today. 

“Would you mind accompanying me to my office?” Gold asked suddenly. 

Belle blinked.  “Er, why?”

“Because I have a fireplace in my office,” He replied. “And it heats up quickly. I’d prefer you to get fully dry and make sure you don’t catch a cold before clocking in today. I will let Jones know you will be late.” 

Gold pulled out his phone and began to text something while Belle tried to remember what the original question was. 

“Just…just for a little while,” She said decisively and Gold glanced at her, as if surprised there was hesitation in her answer.  She got the feeling he wasn’t used to being told “no” to. 

They reached the top floor and when the elevator doors opened, Gold politely held them open as Belle walked out.  The various interns that were scattered about ignored them, their heads never rising from their Macbooks or iPads.  Gold held the door again for her as she entered his office and immediately strode over to the fireplace to turn it on. 

“Gas?” Belle asked curiously, nodding towards it.

“Indeed, less of a fire hazard,” Gold replied, stepping away as the fire roared. “I do prefer wood burning fireplaces however. But those are relegated to my living room and bedroom.” 

“Oh,” Belle cleared her throat, taking off her own coat, trying not to envision Gold’s bedroom or any circumstance that might lead her to be in his bedroom.

She took a seat on the couch, uncomfortably aware that she was dripping on leather, but Gold didn’t seem to mind.  She heard the distinct sound of an electric kettle and jumped slightly when Gold handed her a steaming mug. 

“Earl gray,” He told her. “Do you take cream and sugar?”

“Yes, thank you,” Belle said gratefully. “I really—really appreciate all this, I’m sorry to put you off your work.” 

“Nonsense,” Gold brought over a small tureen of sugar and an even tinier pitcher of cream.  Belle helped herself. 

She took a soothing sip, aware of Gold’s eyes on her.  Her blouse was drying quickly and she had a crazy thought—that she wished she’d been wearing the sheer blouse, something that would reveal her form after being wet.  Now _that_  would have been a good opening to a smutty romance novel.  Alas, she was wearing her dark red blouse, which revealed nothing except that red was an excellent color for her. 

“I was running a little late this morning,” Belle admitted, finding the silence a little too inductive to wild thoughts. “I overslept.”

“It happens to the best of us,” Gold took a sip of his own tea.

“I…haven’t been sleeping well,” She stirred her tea thoughtfully. “Been a little—stressed.” 

“Stressed,” Gold repeated. “About…romance?”

Belle couldn’t help but smile.  “No, not about romance.”  She was not imagining the relief on his face. 

“Then—work? Family?” Gold prompted.  His eyes were so warm—how on earth did Emma find him cold?  Or perhaps he was only this way with her…

“It’s nothing,” Belle said softly. “Or—it should be nothing. It should be over with now.”  She finished the rest of her tea. 

“If you’re sure,” Gold said doubtfully. “I just—please let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you. I feel…I feel people don’t come to me often enough with their problems at the company, and I do care about—about those who work here, and would help them with everything in my power, if they’d allow me.”  His hand reached out, offering to take her empty cup and she placed it in his hands.  As she did so, her fingers brushed his. 

Belle froze.  Gold had stilled too.  Their hands had not moved and she still felt the electric touch of his skin against hers, the barest brush somehow filling her with heat and butterflies.  She suddenly realized how close they were sitting on the couch together—they’d moved towards each other without even realizing it. 

She wet her lips to speak, to say something inane and normal, to break this terrifying and wonderful moment.  To her shock, Gold slowly removed the cup from her hand—but his other still palmed hers. 

_He was holding her hand._

Belle felt dizzy.  Good lord, how long had it been since a man had affected her this way?  Had given her  _butterflies_ , had made her feel like the ground was falling out from underneath her?  She found herself staring at his mouth, willing him to kiss her, willing him to make them a reality—she could find another admin job, to guard from the work impropriety…

The phone rang, abruptly jerking them both out of their reverie.  Belle cleared her throat.

“I should…probably let you get that,” She smiled quickly. “And get back to my—cubicle—thank you, Mr. Gold, I appreciate you letting me dry off here.” 

“I…” Gold started to say and Belle looked at him hopefully.  Whatever unsaid word seemed to die on his tongue and his shoulders slumped.

“You’re quite welcome, Miss French,” Gold nodded at her. “I’ll let you return to your floor.”

Feeling deeply disappointed, Belle exited his office and headed towards the elevators. 

XXXX

“Rory, could you please come to my office?”

Aurora sighed as she hung up her phone.  It was just like Killian to ask her to do something at exactly 4:57PM.  She’d been looking forward to the end of the day since her first cup of tea this morning—Belle, Emma, and herself were planning on seeing a movie and doing a little shopping. 

Belle approached her desk with a smile and Rory held up her hand.  “Just a sec, Jones wants to see me.”  She went to his door, knocked and entered.

“You wanted to see me, Mr. Jones?” Rory asked pleasantly.

Killian set down his newspaper.  He gave her an oily smile that made her feel a little nauseous.

“Rory, darling,” He purred. “I want you to come over to my house this evening.”

Her brow furrowed.  “Mr. Jones, it’s Friday. I’ve got plans, I can’t work.”

“Who said anything about work?” Killian smirked at her. “Tell me something, Rory. Ever had a rodent problem? Vermin in your house?”

Rory blinked.  “Er—once at our old apartment.”

“And what did you use?” Killian asked innocently. “Traps? An exterminator? Rat poison?”

Rory froze.  “I…I don’t remember. I’d have to ask Phillip.”  Her words were guarded.

“Funny thing,” Killian remarked. “When they were pumping my stomach at the hospital, they found traces of rat poison.”

She stiffened.  “You said you had just hit your head!”

“It’s an awfully compelling thing,” Killian said musingly. “Rat poison. The only thing I’d drunk that day was Emma’s coffee. And she was  _awfully_ disappointed that she didn’t get that promotion.”

“Mr. Jones,” Rory swallowed hard. “This is all a terrible misunderstanding and a very mortifying accident. Emma didn’t mean to—”

“She  _accidentally_  put poison in my coffee,” Killian said sardonically. “Mm. Not a very compelling case, love. She is pretty enough to make a shallow jury believe it, though—but then again, men are awfully sensitive about murderous women. The question is, Rory darling, what are  _you_  prepared to do to protect Emma?”

Rory’s eyes widened.  “ _What_?!”

“All it takes is a phone call,” Killian said smoothly. “A quick nip over to the police station. But we can avoid that ugliness, love. Just come over to my house tonight.”

A wave of disgust and white-hot  _rage_  swelled over Rory.  She was so shocked and appalled, she could barely speak a word. 

“Shall I take your silence as acquiescence?” Killian chuckled.

“Absolutely not!” Rory spluttered. “Do you think I would—that I would  _sell_ myself that way? How dare you!”

“What a pity,” Killian said mockingly. “I did think you had more regard for your friends. Never mind then.”  He reached for his cell phone and without thinking, Rory snatched it. 

“You  _cannot_  do this!” She shouted. “You cannot blackmail me this way!”

He chuckled.  “Such a spitfire! I do love it when you’re feisty. Landlines are a big more old-fashioned, but they will do in a pinch.”  He strode across the room, heading for the office phone on the coffee table.

“Killian Jones,” Rory commanded. “Don’t you take another step! We’re going to talk about this reasonably!”

"Time for that has come and gone,” Killian picked up the receiver, dialing.  Panic flooded Rory’s senses and on an impulse, she grabbed a heavy paperweight off his desk and flung it at him. 

Her aim was perfect.  The metal hook struck Killian across the crown of his head, briefly knocking him over.  Rory danced on her feet a little, suddenly terrified, but then with firm resolution, snatched the cord off the phone, hoisted him upwards, and tied him to the chair. 

He woke up during her work.  “What the  _hell_ do you think you are doing?” Killian bellowed. 

“I’m tying you up!” Rory announced, feeling the words make her brave. “You’re going to listen to what I have to say, whether you like it or not!”

To her annoyance, he smirked at her.  “Oh, love, if you wanted to get kinky, all you had to do was ask.” 

“Enough!” Rory snapped. “I need to think!”

Killian attempted to move and found that her knots were not in jest—his wrists were  _actually_  bound.  His brow darkened.

“Let me loose, Aurora,” He growled. “I mean it. The joke is over.” 

“Hush,” Rory removed a scarf from around her neck and shoved it into his mouth to keep him from yelling. “I have to figure out what to do! So you just—stay there!”  She swept towards the door and exited the office.

_Not like he could go anywhere else,_  she thought grimly.

XXXXX

“Belle—we, uh…we have a bit of a situation.”

Belle put her book down to look at Rory fully.  Her friend seemed panicked, her face pale, and she was fidgeting with the edge of her sleeves. 

“Everything all right?” Belle folded her arms. 

“Not really,” Rory cleared her throat. “I, er…well, suffice it to say, Killian knows about the poisoned coffee.” 

“ _What_?!” Belle hissed. “How can he know?”

“I don’t know, he just does!” Rory wailed. “And now we have to deal with him! I’ve a temporary solution, but we need something more permanent!”

Belle’s stomach turned.  “Wait a minute. What exactly do you mean by a temporary solution?”

Rory bit her lip.  “I may have…tied him up a little.”

Belle’s mouth fell open. 

“Look—you wait in his office, make sure no creepy scum like Sidney oozes in while I get Emma,” Rory said in a rush. “We just have to—to put our heads together!”

She dashed off to hunt down Emma while Belle stood, paralyzed.  She turned towards the door and stared at it for about five minutes, frantically trying to think of a solution.  Rory had  _tied him up_?  Damn it to hell, they were well and truly screwed now if Jones had evidence of Emma poisoning his coffee and Rory’s short temper had made it about a thousand times worse. 

Belle glanced at the elevator, thinking of Gold’s words.  She had the strongest temptation to rush up all those floors, track down Tavish Gold, and beg him for his help.  She couldn’t explain it, but she had the distinct feeling that Gold wouldn’t ask too many questions, believe her implicitly, and do everything he could to help. 

She took a deep breath, steadying herself.  She couldn’t do that, it was out of the question.  Once he found out something like this…

Belle opened the door to Jones’ office and gasped when she saw him, completely hog-tied with the telephone cord.  Killian noticed her immediately, grunting through the piece of cloth Rory had apparently stuffed into his mouth.

“Oh my God,” Belle groaned. “Rory, you’ve done it this time!”  She walked over and pulled the cloth out of his mouth, allowing him to speak.

Killian’s face was red with fury.  “Untie me, Belle,” He ordered dangerously. 

Her lips compressed.  “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“ _Untie me, or you’ll regret it_ ,” Killian bit out.

“That ship has sailed,” Belle snorted.  She turned away from him, pacing agitatedly.  She looked out the door hoping to see Emma or Rory headed towards them, but the office was completely silent.    

She was about to make a decision when she heard footsteps behind her.  Killian, slimy weasel that he was, had somehow loosed his own bindings, and promptly struck her across the head. 

Belle crumpled to the floor and Killian sneered at her.  He was saying something, something about how she looked good on the floor, but Belle wasn’t paying attention.  Rory had left her purse in his office and Belle slipped her hands inside, feeling for the small revolver.

“Don’t move a muscle,” Belle breathed heavily, attempting to stand. “Don’t move or I’ll shoot.”  She had never held a gun before.  The process was terrifying—it was heavier than she expected.

Killian sneered at her again.  “How scary. Unfortunately for  _you_ , Miss French, I know perfectly well you don’t have the balls to shoot me.”  He turned and began to walk away from her—and that is when Belle squeezed the trigger.

The noise of the gunshot was a lot louder than on television.  Her aim was chaotic, which she expected, and merely hit the glass pane next to the door.  Killian immediately got down on the ground, his hands in the air, at the precise moment Emma and Rory burst through. 

“Jesus Christ, Belle!” Emma exploded. “What the hell?”

“He was going to call the police,” Belle said in a strangely cool voice. “Can’t have that.”

“So you tried to  _shoot_  him?!” Emma thundered, while Killian whimpered on the ground. 

“Ladies, we best figure something out quickly, before the night cleaning crew comes,” Rory glanced at the clock. “Help me tie him up.”

XXXX

Killian’s mansion was a gaudy place, in colors Belle detested, and flowers that burned Emma’s nose lining the walkway.  Rory had helpfully provided his address, suggesting they tie him up again, drive him home, and attempt to reason with him in his own house.

Frankly, after nearly shooting him and tying him up for the second time, Belle thought they were past the age of reason.

The lurid stream of epithets and curses that came from Killian’s mouth as the three women dragged him, completely bound, up to his bedroom was colorful indeed.  It was clear that he was not in the mood for discussion, instead preferring to shout about all the things he’d do to them once he was free, most involving tying them up and “showing who the boss was”.  Emma tightened his bindings and the three convened in the study.

“Well?” Rory demanded. “Now what?”

“We can’t keep him here forever,” Belle leaned against his desk.

“Kill him?” Emma offered half-heartedly and Belle shoved her slightly. 

“Be serious, Emma, we need a better solution than  _that_ ,” She spat. “Attempted murder, kidnapping, brandishing a weapon in a public place—he’s got us all cornered.”

Emma’s lips twisted.  “I’m beginning to wish he  _did_  drink my poisoned coffee,” She said sourly. “Would’ve saved us all a lot of trouble.”

Belle began to pace.  “I think the only way to keep Killian from calling the police is to get something on  _him_ —our own bit of blackmail.”

Emma lit up.  “Now there’s an idea! If we find something worse that he’s done—”

“Worse than tying him up, trying to shoot him, and near-murdering him?” Rory put in wryly.

“You’d be surprised at the kind of lowlifes Killian Jones deals with,” Emma said grimly. “I don’t have any proof, of course—but that can be handled.”

“What about a sex scandal?” Rory suggested. “I’m sure if we dug through his home movies, we might find one or two filthy home features to distribute on the internet.”

Belle wrinkled her nose.  “Sex scandals are always worse for the women involved than the men. We’d be ruining some other girl’s life while Killian would take it as just another notch in his belt.”

“Belle’s right,” Emma agreed. “It’ll have to be something more business related.”  She twisted her mouth slightly. 

“We could search his office,” Rory suggested.

“If Killian was doing something unscrupulous, would he keep the proof in his office?” Belle asked skeptically. “He’d hide it somewhere else…at home, perhaps…”

The three women glanced at each other and suddenly dove for his desk, scrambling through the papers.

“This is ridiculous,” Emma said in frustration. “We’re not gonna find anything accept…ew…” She grimaced, unfurling a sticky magazine with a woman in a leather bikini plastered on the front.   

“Hang on,” Belle said slowly, her eyes glancing upwards.  The ornate ceiling was gaudy in its way, detailed and elaborate with various etchings—but something didn’t seem to match quite right.  She clambered on top of the desk to reach the ceiling, her fingers barely brushing against the grooves.  She stretched further on her tiptoes and to her delight, managed to wiggle a loose board. 

Emma’s expression lit up.  She joined Belle on top of the desk, being several inches taller, and removed one of the boards.  She felt around for a bit and crowed in triumph when she pulled out a metal box.

“Locked,” Belle noted, fingering its sharp edge.

“No worries,” Emma said breezily, hopping off the desk.  She plucked a bobbi pin out of Rory’s messy updo and bent it carefully, picking the lock.  Rory’s eyebrows rose. 

“It’s all about the tumblers,” Emma said absently and sure enough, with a cheerful click, the box opened.  The three women peered inside and a slow smile emerged on Emma’s face.

“Aha,” She said with pleasure. “I think we’ve found something.”  She withdrew a flashdrive and grinned at her friends.  


	7. Leather & Chains

“So what’s up with this empty warehouse?”

Emma sat perched on a stool, smirking at Killian, who was tied to the bed. She was flanked by Belle, who was idly fidgeting with a jumpdrive and Rory, whose arms were folded against her chest disapprovingly. Killian glared at them.

“What are you talking about?” He bit out.

“This jumpdrive,” Emma said pleasantly. “Shows some very interesting spreadsheets covering inventory for this warehouse for Gold Consolidated.”

“So what?”

“Well, it was a beautiful day for a drive, you know,” Rory put in. “So we took a little trip to this warehouse—and it seems to be completely empty. You sold it and pocketed the money.”

“We know this,” Belle finished. “Because I checked the financial records—no sale of purchase. As far as Mr. Gold is aware, it’s still being used for inventory. Somehow, I don’t think he’d be pleased to know you’ve been embezzling from him. I hear his temper is quite fierce.” 

“You have no way to prove that,” Killian sneered. “A jumpdrive? Spreadsheets can be falsified. What makes you think Gold will believe a secretary over me?”

“He’s pretty fond of Belle,” Emma retorted. “And I get the feeling he’d believe her pretty easily—especially since he’s been waiting for the perfect opportunity to throw you under the bus.” 

“He’ll be in the court fight of his life, if he tries it.” 

“I’m sure he’ll oblige you,” Belle said sweetly. “But just to make things nice and neat, we’ll order the invoices.”

Killian chuckled darkly. “You little birds have no idea who you’re dealing. If you wanted to play rough, all you had to do was ask.”

“We’re done playing games,” Rory said sharply. 

“Untie me!”

Belle twisted her lips. “He has a point. If we’re going to keep him this way, we’ll need to figure out a better way of confinement.” 

Rory brightened. “I know just the place!”

XXXX

“I am not going in there.”

“Oh, don’t be such a prude, Emma,” Rory said cheerfully. “They have a just what we’re looking for—a way to keep him comfortable, contained, and at our mercy.” 

They were standing in front of a large shop that was called JACK THE STRIPPER – ADULT NOVELTIES AND SUPPLIES. Actually, they were in a literal strip mall—there was a pornography theatre next door and what looked like an old strip club next to that, though the club’s windows were boarded up with a “for rent” sign outside. 

“You’ve…been here before?” Belle asked doubtfully, glancing at Rory, who was wearing a pink dress decorated with small daisies. 

“Sure, lots of times,” She replied breezily. “Phillip, Ming, and I get great coupon rates.”

“Okay, we’ll circle back to that,” Emma stared at her friend bewildered. “But I swear to God, I am not going in there. What if someone sees me?!”

“What are the chances of that?” Rory asked brightly. “I’ve been going here for years and I’ve never seen anyone from work—except you two now. In we go!”

She half-dragged Emma inside but Belle followed fairly willingly. Her eyes widened as she paused in front of a riding crop. 

“Not those,” Rory told her. “Cheap and they break easy.”

“Okay, we are not here for riding crops!” Emma burst out. “Just…take us to the bondage section and let’s get the hell out of here.”

Through Rory’s helpful suggestions, they selected a leather number that included chains that could be conveniently attached to the wall. Luckily, Emma was handy with a drill so making these constructive adjustments to Killian’s house would not be a problem. 

When they’d finished their purchases, the three women walked out, heading towards their car. But before they could escape the literal strip mall, they heard a voice call out:

“Emma?!”

Neal and Tavish Gold were standing in front of the closed strip club, their eyes agape. 

Emma turned roughly the color of a tomato, Belle dropped her purchases, and Rory waved, not embarrassed in the slightest. 

“What…are you doing here…?” Neal asked slowly, his gaze flickering between Emma and the sex shop. 

“What are you doing here?” Emma squeaked.

“I told you…we were looking at an old exotic club that we wanted to turn into a pub…” Neal cleared his throat. “It’s not exactly in the most desirable of locations, but Dad was thinking of buying the—other businesses and converting them…”

“Okay,” Emma said in something of a strangled voice. “Well, we’re gonna go now. I’ll see you at home—your night with Henry. Bye.” In strange jerky movements, she got into the car. Rory, who’d been looking at her phone, sighed impatiently and joined them. Belle made to join them.

“Miss French.”

Belle froze. She turned towards Gold who was approaching her.

“You…er…dropped this,” He said carefully. He was holding a leather riding crop. 

Her face flamed. Wordlessly, she took the riding crop from his hand and for the briefest moment, his hand closed over hers. At this, she couldn’t resist looking into his eyes. 

There was heat in his gaze. 

“BELLE, CAN WE GET MOVING PLEASE.” Emma honked the horn and Belle resisted the urge to swear.

“Thank you,” She said sweetly and got into the car with her head held high. 

XXXX

Killian fit into the suit marvelously. It was a relatively painless affair getting him into it, after Rory spiked his drink with a few sleeping pills. He screamed at the indignity of it all, saying an assortment of filthy things, with Emma laughing uproariously and pointing out how good he looked in leather. Belle assured him that he would be completely comfortable chained in his house—they would allow him to Netflix binge whatever show he wished, they would trade off shifts feeding him and keeping watch over him, and Rory even paid for a handy little security system that alerted each of their phones if he somehow was able to loose his chains from the wall. 

Killian exploded several times, telling all three of them that he was the boss of their floor, and that he surely would be missed. 

But as it turned out, Rory had learned how to forge his signatures years ago. It saved time, because getting him to sign any sort of paperwork while avoiding getting groped was a Sisyphean task. Emma told the floor that he had a week long conference in Bali. No one seemed to care, in fact Belle was quite sure she heard an audible sigh of relief from their floor. 

“The big thing,” Emma said grimly. “Is keeping Gold off our backs.”

“Well, how do you propose to do that?” Belle wanted to know. “He’s Tavish Gold. He’s sure to smell something rotten.”

Emma and Rory smiled at her charmingly. Belle’s mouth dropped open.

“Oh, you can’t mean—” She protested.

“Take one for the team, Belle,” Emma said in satisfaction. “Neal says he likes you. I’m sure you can keep him occupied.”

“Have you talked to Neal?” Belle attempted to change the subject. “About where the two of you stand?”

“Considering he caught me walking out of a sex shop, no,” Emma glared. “Don’t try and divert this. I mean it, Belle. Keep Gold busy.”

XXXX

This was easier said than done. 

Gold required several pieces of paperwork to be signed directly by Killian Jones. Rory’s forgery had worked on other members of management, but Emma was nervous about casting them under Gold’s gaze. To circumvent this, she sent Belle to deliver them, rather than Neal. 

She was trembling by the time she reached his office. Lying to her coworkers was one thing, lying to Gold, well…it seemed a fool’s mission. Emma seemed certain that Belle’s presence would be enough to distract Gold from anything amiss, but Belle wasn’t so sure…

She knocked on the door, heard his brusque “Come in.” She opened the door to find him bent over his desk, flipping through pictures on an iPad. 

“Good—good afternoon, Mr. Gold,” Belle’s voice squeaked a little. He looked up this time, his eyes slightly widening. 

His mouth quirked. “Did my son con you into delivering my mail again?”

“Oh no,” Belle assured him. “I came of my own freewill.”

His eyebrows rose and Belle silently cursed herself. I came of my own freewill…now it sounded like she wanted to see him purposefully! Well of course she wanted to see him purposefully, but did she have to be so horribly obvious about it?!

“I’ve brought you the paperwork your requested,” Belle cleared her throat. “Here you are.” She made to set the file on his desk but he took it from her directly, his hands brushing against her fingers. Her stomach flipped uncomfortably.

“Thank you,” Gold said gently. “I appreciate you walking it up here.” 

Belle continued to stand. He blinked at her, as if expecting her to go, but did not complain at her remaining stationary. Clearing his throat, he flipped the file open and glanced at the signatures.

His expression darkened. He looked confused for a moment.

In a rush, Belle burst out, “Would you like to go out to dinner?”

Gold spilled his tea. His cup clattered across his desk and brown liquid exploded everywhere. He swore violently and snatched a tea towel, mopping up the mess. Finally, he lifted his head, staring at her in shock. She noticed with relief that the file fell from his hands and he impatiently brushed it away. She resisted the wild urge to giggle at how flustered he became. 

“I…” He swallowed. “I would. Very much so.” 

Warmth spread through her, ending at her fingertips. She smiled in joy and relief, rocking a little on her toes. 

“I, er,” Belle fiddled with the sleeve of her blouse. “I…I don’t know many of the restaurants around here. But I like…I like Italian food. And good wine. I hear there’s a Little Italy downtown, so maybe…maybe after work we could…”

“Favazza’s,” Gold couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of her. “They have very good risotto. And wine. They’re…not particularly well-known, something of a hole in the wall, but they’re…private.”

Belle was struck with the sudden image of her curling next to him in a quiet, dim Italian restaurant, drinking wine in candlelight. It was an intensely appealing image. 

“Tonight?” Gold asked her and she was not imagining the definite hope in his voice. 

It was her shift to watch Killian, but if Emma was going to insist she ‘distract’ Gold, then she could damn well take her turn…

“Okay,” Belle said breathlessly. “I’ll…meet you in the lobby.”

She turned away from him, her knees knocking together.

XXXX

“Good call,” Emma said approvingly. “The more you keep Gold distracted, the better.”

Belle fidgeted in agitation. “Emma, I don’t want to…I don’t want to distract him. This isn’t just for show, you know.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Emma replied dismissively. “Whatever keeps him off this floor and not sniffing around for Killian.”

The day had sped by rapidly, of course, considering Belle’s nervousness for her date. She had reconvened with Emma and Rory in the bathroom, where Rory was adjusting her makeup and hair. Both women had pronounced Belle’s black sheath dress acceptable for a date, but Rory insisted that Belle borrow her Louboutin’s.

“We’re the same size and they’re lucky,” Rory proclaimed. “They’ll give you confidence.” 

“A shot of whiskey would do the same thing,” Emma remarked dryly. She rarely varied her shoe routine—sneakers for the summer, boots for the winter. 

“Let me just line your eyes a little more,” Rory squinted like an artist staring at a canvas. “There you are! You’re set to go. Oh—you should wear your hear down.”

Belle released her clip, letting her dark curls tumble down her shoulders. She nervously glanced at herself in the mirror. She wished she’d had more time to prepare. But Rory was right. The little black dress never let any girl down on a date and the heels absolutely did wonders for her legs. 

“All right,” Emma glanced at her watch. “Show time. Let’s head to the elevators.”

Belle hopped off the restroom sink and nervously made her way towards the doors. As soon as they opened the doors, Neal Cassidy was standing outside of them. He did not look pleased.

“Oh, shit,” Emma blurted.

“Oh, shit is right,” Neal crossed his arms. “Rory, Belle, I apologize for the creepy awkwardness of having to wait outside the women’s restroom. But I would like to speak to the mother of my child now, and considering the fact that she’s successfully avoided me for the past week and is ducking my calls, I had to take drastic measures.”

Belle looked at Emma aghast. “You still haven’t talked to Neal?” 

Emma looked like a trapped raccoon. “Er—my phone died…?”

“She’s all yours, Neal,” Rory rolled her eyes. “You two take the second elevators. Belle and I will take the lobby elevators. C’mon, now—let’s not keep Gold waiting.”

“Speaking of,” Neal cleared her throat. “There’s a car waiting out front for you, Belle. Pops was worried that walking out with him might warrant unwanted attention.”

“Wow,” Rory commented. “He certainly thinks ahead. Let’s go, Belle.” 

She propelled her friend towards the elevators, stranding Emma with Neal.

XXXX

Neal fixed Emma with a steely glare, his arms still crossed. Emma nervously glanced at the framed photograph on the wall. They really ought to update the decorations for this floor—how long had it been since that lantern festival? Ten years? Fifteen?

“Emma,” Neal sighed. “Seriously, are you just going to not say anything?”

“What do you want me to say?” Emma demanded defensively. 

Neal sighed again, raking his fingers through his hair. “Okay, if we’re going to do this—I’ll say something.” 

Emma waited in agony.

“If you don’t want it to mean anything, it doesn’t have to.”

She blinked. “What?”

“That night,” Neal said pointedly. “If you’re freaked out because of it—if you want to forget it ever happened—we can do that. We can go back to how it was. Just friends. Co-parents. Henry comes first, after all. Sex always complicates things and if you don’t want to be with me, that’s okay, Emma. I understand. We can go back to how it was.”

There was a long pause. Emma stared at him, biting the inside of her cheeks.

“Is…” She asked slowly. “Is that what you want?”

“Do you really want to know what I want?” Neal asked evenly. 

Emma gulped. “Yes.”

His gaze went to the ceiling. “I…I want a drink. And I’d like you to join me. That sound okay?”

Emma glanced at her phone. Henry had soccer practice till 8:30PM…

“No is an acceptable answer,” Neal told her gently. “I just—I do want an answer, though.” 

She exhaled. “I want a drink too.”


End file.
